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meatriarchived · 4 months

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he stood taller than johnny. maybe six-four. baby blue eyes. copper hair. crooked smile, wide grin showing teeth when he laughs. crows feet. stubble. he was tall. blue eyes. copper hair. tall. blue. copper. not blonde. copper. taller than johnny. or? no. same height. no ... no. he was taller but not by much. he was there, around the other side of the store front. he was right there — the fucker was right there-

the copper-haired one was meant to be beside her - went by isaac. the one she'd set eyes on well over a week before, kind eyes and gentle demeanor when they had spoken, that early evening, when she'd been out on her own. he was surrounded by people he'd known then, however. made it impossible to sneak him off alone, not without one of the others keeping her face fresh in memory, had he not returned that night. it was only a passing conversation, but it was enough to warrant him, two days later, to recognize her elsewhere. to cross parking lot immediately, calling out her name — dolores — and strike up talk once again. a gentleman, helping her pack the back of her car with groceries. kind, friendly, strong. she could see it easily — how well-worked muscle made things a breeze for him. and for most, the sight would falter their knees, make them swoon. once upon a time, she'd be the same if she were honest — now? now all she could read from such display was,

he would put up a nice fight.

instead, however, beside her in the truck she rode passenger in sat old but familiar face; long blonde locks and strikingly green eyes that gazed at her for the last couple hours — with such warmth, such affection; with hidden grief and uncertainty and hope all meshing in green shades bright and dulled. it wasn't the copper-haired man, isaac, in the drivers' seat of the truck driven all this way down from way up north, from montana —

it was donnie — su vaquero — beside her, stealing glances at her during the drive here ( ensuring, perhaps, that none of this was a dream — that it truly was maria flores, truly was the girl, his friend, who had suddenly disappeared those years ago — in the passenger seat, alive ).

to the home she'd set up, a decoy, a place not too far from home — not too far out past the hewitts' property — where she could lure targets to — made them feel safe, when running off alone with her. one of the few, smaller homes, mrs. hewitt had told them some time ago, still in decent condition, that belonged to one of the late patriarchs' brothers' before they up and took off, leaving most of their things behind. took a while to deep clean it, make it look lived-in again, but the remaining hints of a family — of old photographs still hung up all about — worked well as a nice little cover story—

maria found herself bundled in nerves, hands clasped the shawl she had wrapped securely around her ( handmade by mrs. hewitt, for one of her birthdays. shawl mirroring the wings of a mourning cloak butterfly ) — like a safety net, or an embrace; part of her wanted to think it was one of them — lee, or johnny — rather than simple fabric, calming her at this moment . . .

donnie caught her completely off-guard. when he suddenly came into view in front of her, before she'd made her presence known to her target — to isaac. she had been as stunned as donnie's face had been then. green eyes looking over her in disbelief, taking her in, registering that it was actually her — at least, she assumed so. she couldn't deny, either, that she had done the same looking up at him . . .

air lodged itself in her lungs then, and she found it difficult to expel, take in another. it was like the chill of the cold rooms that came over her, a trembling that hit every nerve throughout limbs.

a fear that swept over her.

and when donnie's arms had gone around her, pulling her into hug — misreading her body language, perhaps — she was suddenly small, vulnerable. not wolf, not lamb. not even rabbit.

she felt small, insignificant.

like a mouse.

cornered. arms trapped in a rodents' trap, metal bar like jaw closing around her. there was a panic, a fear, in blown-out eyes, pupils so dilated the hazel around them was non-existent, and they peered past donnie's shoulder, past him, out into the storefronts around them, to the people casually passing by without a thought or mind to either of them.

eyes that, desperately, flickered to every single face within sight — desperately looking for trace of either johnny or lee among them . . .

but then, small voice whispered in her head, you went out alone, remember? they had things to do this morning.

maria found her hands having raised to return donnie's embrace, however evident — likely from how much she trembled in his arms — that he pulled away enough to look down at her, concern laced in brow, and he had loosened his hold, suddenly aware he'd just pulled her in without warning, how it was just as much of a shock to her seeing him as it was when he recognized her. and he had apologized profusely, if he made her uncomfortable, if he had scared her — he didn't mean to, and more words tumbled from his mouth.

maria could hardly make them out. his drawl all but sounded to her like the ringing of ears, of the static of the radio . . .

reminded her of those fucking broadcasts—

her tongue, her lips, felt dried out. so isolated.

she knew, in the back of her mind, that someday, possibly, she or lee could run into any one of their old friends. and the thought of it, time and time again, stirred emotions murky and heavy. knew it would happen. knew it was only matter of time. knew she'd have to, one day, look back at any one of them — see how much they'd changed, the longer it took. for them to see how much she and lee both changed, too. but, maria had assumed when that day did finally come,

that johnny and lee would both be close-by, someplace she could slink over to if it was too overwhelming, too complicated — too painful.

and yet that day came — looking down at her with once-adored green eyes. and she felt completely alone.

it had taken a moment, to regain herself, claw back the security blanket that donnie had — without intention — ripped off around her. and she had finally looked back up at him, as dolores' mask slipped back into place. she let tears gloss over hazels, as cracking smile lifted cheeks as she'd shaken her head reached up between them, took donnie's face between them, allowed her gaze take him in all over again — without properly seeing him, this time; mentally blurring his features, as if quietly trying to erase the familiarity from her memories, erase his importance from them.

she'd reassured him, hours ago, that she was okay and not to worry, it was simply alot to suddenly take in, just overwhelmed seeing him. not a lie, to be fair. and she'd brought him back in, hugging him tightly — hugging him as if she could lose him all over, like he lost her those years ago.

( he still smells nice, voice sounds out again, and his hugs, oh his hugs, they're still so sweet— )

those hours they spent together, before piling into the truck, were sweet. like old times, of him coming by her apartment. talking about the smallest, most seemingly unimportant things. listening to the radio, breaking out into singing songs they knew to one another. of his jokes, and making her laugh. how sweet, innocent, gentle those nights had been to her — had it not been for the years in between, of that last see you later before she left that spring break, who knows . . . maybe she could have mustered up some shred of courage to admit she liked him, then, when she got back home.

but things changed. very much changed.

as much as even this day, he could make laughter pour itself out from her with ease; the taste on her tongue, dragged down throat, lingered bitter aftertaste. it only worsened the more he talked abut what he had been up to — about his moving out of texas, the ranch up in montana, of his daughter . . .

and yet, her face, her eyes, remained softly looking at him as he spoke, gentle smile — albeit, a little sad at first glance. she let him talk, offering curious questions to keep him doing so, keep him occupied. keep him there, across from her. eyes gliding to watch on the mans' wrist at the table behind his seat, quietly keeping track of time.

it was too late, now, to try and find isaac again. she was certain she could have coaxed him, finally, off to the house, entice him inside, in just the right amount of time to get his guard lowered further before johnny and lee would get there.

but isaac was gone, now. long gone, by now.

and there was a tightness along jaw, now, sitting across from donnie. he messed this all up. thought crossed mind, and maria looked at donnie for a moment, in silence. his features, once again, hazed and blurred, and mid-sentence she reached out a hand and took his in both of hers, standing and looking down at him, doe-eyed, pleading, as she had asked him with a small voice, soft and quiet, " can we go someplace else? someplace quiet, donnie? "

uncertainty crossed over him. briefly.

but it was doe-eyes unwavering, threatening tears once again as they welled from past lashes, the small quiver of lip even — a show of sudden discomfort, being out and about; of nervousness being in the public eye, a little white lie told to him earlier — and he crumbled for her. and she rewarded him agreeing, leaning in and kissing cheek, with a sad, gentle smile and a sincere thank you, before he stood and lead her, her hands still clasped over his own, to his truck.

he was not her intended for the night — but donnie could still be a nice catch to bring back in isaac's place. perhaps an even better one — for johnny, moreso.

( she still remembers all those years ago, when reading the newspaper her eyes found herself staring down at her own face — printed, in the obituary section — officially declaring her death. and how it was johnny, and lee, who comforted her when every little part of her mind, her heart, her hope of ever going home, shattered completely. being dead to the world, when you were very much still breathing . . . it hurt. so badly, it hurt. knowing she was given up on. by people she thought she mattered to. by her own family. and it was johnny and lee who were there, to reassure her that she was still very much alive, did matter — to them. and later on, the same was returned to lee, when his obituary, as well, laid out in plain view across tabletop. she remembers, vividly, the sincerity, on johnny's face, in his voice, when he told them both he was sorry their friends abandoned them. )

it was donnie getting the truck door for her, helping her hop up inside, that maria apologized to him — the amount of people had started making her nervous, that if he had places to be it was okay to simply drop her off someplace else. the thought was waved off by him, assured her that anything he could have needed to do could wait, and maria's face lightened up, warmed smile beaming on face ( closest, so far that day, to how she'd smile back then. )

and him smiling back at her — that cute smile of his that she had always adored — there was a tug on her heart as he closed the door, rounded the front of the trust to get into the drivers side. the static and haze buzzing wildly in her head seemed to slow, quieted down, as eyes followed him. watched as he got in, shut the door after him. while digging for his keys and bringing the truck to life from the ignition. when his eyes met hers once again, maria's gaze was softened. and a murmur fell past her lips,

" i missed you, donnie. "

smile returned to his own face, and before he could finish returning the sentiment, maria scooted herself closer to him, leaning in and kissing his cheek, before slipping her arm around his, brought legs up onto truck seat and lowered her head, resting cheek against his shoulder. " i'll let you know where to drive okay? " she tilted head to look up at him, smiling again, as he took off on the road — flustered, with a goofy little grin on his face. small talk shared between them, with the radio playing on low, every now and then one of them turning it higher, singing along to the tune being played and laughing at one another. like old times. then quieting it down, for her to point out where to go, for their talks and questions to continue. for her to look back at him, lean up and give his cheek another kiss. and another—

until instead of cheek, her lips meet his — feathery soft, lightly, as he drives, doing his best to still keep eye on the road. " good thing its quiet today, " is murmured against his lips, with a gentle nuzzle of the side of his face as he re-straightens the truck ( a little carried away, that time. ), " you seem like you're having a bit of trouble driving, donnie— " she teases gently, grinning when he shoots her a look, smirk crossing lips, " only needed to get back in the lane 'cause yer so distractin', miss maria. " she laughs at that and gives his cheek a final peck — for now — and straightens herself up a little in the seat, looking ahead at last out the front window, eyes scanning the landmarks, telling him what backroad to get off of coming up.

things slowly grew more familiar as he drove. and the warmth, the bliss that crept in her chest when they had kissed ebbed away — slowly, souring, a twisting anxiety replacing it in her gut the closer, she realized, they were getting to the home.

this is donnie. this is her friend. this is the guy you had that little crush on, all that time ago, maria — and you're leading him blindly into a wolves den, that damned voice, hissing in her head at her, tell him to just drop you off. tell him to get the fuck away from there. tell him to go home. to montana.

no, he left you there too. they were all so close to you and yet, not a fucking one of them heard you? how bad your voice was for days, after screaming from your cell, screaming for one of them to hear you, to find you? and not a fucking damned one of them did? bull-fucking-shit.

its donnie's voice beside her that draws maria back. back to present from the past few hours, of them finding place to go, to talk, to catch up. back to the passenger seat of his truck. back to her eyes staring empty at the front door of the decoy home. as reality slowly started to sink back in, like insects crawling all across skin.

( she's brought him to his own grave. )

his voice cut in again, that same uncertain concern in his tone, across features. when she turned to look at him, he asked if she's alright, if something's wrong. her head shakes, turning herself to him and leans over, re-meeting his lips softly, until she felt him melt all over again, until she felt his hand attempt to draw her even closer; she gently broke the kiss instead, murmured that they should maybe head inside, instead, if he wanted to. and shot him a playful grin and scoot back across the seat, opened the truck door and hopped on out before he had the chance to respond.

but she knew he followed her up to the front steps. the drivers' side door opened and slammed shut, the crunch of his boots against dirt road under their feet. she reached into suspended flower pot beside the door, taking out house key and dusting it off, glancing back at him with a smile, patting the sides of her dress, " don't have pockets, and not alot of people really come on by here so, don't carry it on me too often. " with a muffled click she opens the door, slipping shawl from around her and sets it just inside, on little side table in arms reach. she glances at him, again, when she steps in but he stays on the steps, looking up at her; eyes looking her over, raising to find and lock back on hers. she pauses and steps back out, closer to him, motioning with her head to the house, " . . . change your mind, donnie? "

please go, please go back to the truck, please go back to montana . . .

" maria— "

please turn around. go back. leave texas, go home to your daughter, please tell me you're leaving—

“ you… you gotta know, before anything else happens tonight… you gotta know that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me. ”

was it possible for ones' heart to simultaneously crumble into ash and yet still feel warm, full? god she wanted to punch him, shove him back towards his fucking truck. GET OUT, she wanted to scream at him, she wanted to pull him to her, laugh in his face, break down right there in front of him, GET OUT WHILE YOU STILL CAN, im so sorry—

but her hands had lifted, briefly cupped cheeks once more, and brought herself to him, kissing him all over again, letting his arms move around her this time, kissing lovingly, needingly, desperately even, to not want space drawn between them again. between them, however, comes her voice against his lips, " i always wondered, how it'd be, kissing you, you know, vaquero— "

as soon as old term of endearment slipped out, they both were inside the door, him shutting it harsh behind them without once either of them breaking away from the other. all those times, before everything happened, at the old frat parties where he'd come over to check up on her or the others, how they'd lean in close to one another, to hear each others' voices over the music playing as its loudest. how he'd look around the room, and her eyes would linger on him for seconds longer. he was always handsome, to her, and charming, too. his smile — both silly and boyish, or that damned smirk of his . . . they always made her melt a little on the inside, every time he flashed them her way. always wondered, too, how kissing those smirking lips would feel like . . . but, neither of them had ever said a word to the other, before she was taken. thought echoed from time to time, in the far corners of her mind, of if he had or if she had said anything then, would anything have changed now?

who knows.

her mind was whirling as it was, with the high she was getting, kissing him, after all this time. different than it was, kissing her targets. here was something behind both their lips, meanings unspoken, finally at least getting a shred of an escape, after all these years, a gentle touch of lips to hers, different, from how it was kissing—

" darlin', i love you, " donnie panted, his lips a hair's bredth away from hers, " i always did. i always have, ever since i met'cha. think i always will . . . "

his voice however dropped from existence the moment those words left his mouth.

i love you.

her lungs felt every bit of air in them were sucked out harsh, left her freezing inside.

you love me?

liar.

is that why you never heard me screaming for help down there? you loved me so much that the moment you saw an escape for yourself you took it? without a second thought? you love me, and yet you left me there, abandoned me there, then abandoned leland, and then just did what? did you love me so much you begged the police to come to the property? look for us? did you bother even trying to come back with anyone, to try and help us? loved me so much you fucking left me to rot down there . . .

you love me?

never looked back, you took off the moment you could, completely left texas entirely, ran off to live your life while we were stuck here fighting for our own. fighting to survive. you love me and yet, you continued on, met someone, had a kid?

no. you don't fucking love me.

fucking liar. you're a fucking liar, donnie.

maria knew damn good and well what love meant, what those words meant — the strength they held. because they were said, and shown, to her in every possible meaningful way, by leland, by johnny.

i love you was leland swallowing pride and fight when she begged him, pleaded for him to stop, out of fear she would lose him if he kept pushing his luck — and he did. for her. so he could be around, to stay by her side. protect her. so they wouldn't be alone.

i love you was her lost in that damn field, so long ago, running in fear from horrid, half-gored beast, from misshapen faces and figures, from voices from all directions — and then seeing johnny step out into view from the leaves and stalks of sorghum and miscanthus, the only clear, normal, familiar thing she'd laid eyes on for what felt like hours. how when she ran to him, out of desperation to get out, he allowed her into his arms, held her close and reassured her that she was safe with him, he would protect her from all that was lurking around her, and he did just that.

i love you was the both of them time and time again, when they went out on their hunts, together, and they both kept watch over her, even at a distance, even in a large crowd. and the moment either one saw any foul play, overheard any cruel thing be said to her? they were making their way over.

i love you was their protective natures. their gentle touches. their moments of peace back home, eating at the table together, huddled under the covers for warmth during the night, when the shack turned icy-cold.

where the fuck was yours donnie?

how much she would have wanted to someday hear those three words come from him . . . now? these years later, now he says it? when they hold no meaning. when he never bothered to find her. when he ran off — ran, like he always fucking did.

the audacity to tell her he loves her.

fuck you, donovan.

how seconds passing can instead feel like a century has crawled on by . . . when donnie's eyes open, and green meets hazel, does the split second shift in his eyes, across his face, show his attempt to register the look on her own.

before knife, dug out silently from drawer behind her, bites down into his shoulder; her pupils blown out, cold emptiness on her face—

FUCK. YOU.

“ you… you gotta know, before anything else happens tonight… you gotta know that you were the greatest thing that ever happened to me. ” + “ i love you. ” | @priestbit | scenario two, companion.

#slowly scoots this onto the dash like: well this reached 4030 words so enjoy the bedtime read- FGBNSDJK #[ mf ] ── * 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄. { no one saved you. }#[ mf ] ── * 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐃. { maria. }#priestbit #i may be Rusty but goddamn did i fuckin Write- FBNSDJK #hope this reads well & hope you (& donnie) enjoy beth c;

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pesterloglog · 4 months

Text

Gamzee Makara, Dave Strider

Act 5, page 4027-4031

terminallyCapricious [TC] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG]

TC: it's all your fault.

TG: ?

TC: IT'S ALL YOUR MOTHERFUCKIN FAULT.

TC: honk.

TG: ok

TC: YOU ALL CRACKED OFF THE TOP OF THE BOTTLE TO THOSE FUCKIN CLOWN IMPOSTORS.

TC: that all were spraying out the flagrant motherfuckin heresies at me.

TC: THE FLAGRANT MOTHER FUCKING HERESIES MOTHER FUCKER.

TC: is what came out from their mouths, it made me get my sadness on to see it.

TC: AND MY RAGE ON FUCKING HARDER.

TG: im sorry

TC: all my life i believed at a fuckin paradise to come what held the most baller, darkest of carnivals to join.

TC: AND A PROPHECY

TC: to tell all about a band of rowdy and capricious minstrels steeped in the good harshwhimsy.

TC: THE MIRTHFUL MESSIAHS WERE FORETOLD TO BE CRASHING THAT FUCKING PIE STAND AND BRING THE HOLY RUCKUS.

TC: like a giddy fuckin ninja one wheeling head long at the hugest fuckin horn heap shangri la's got to see.

TC: I'M TALKING ABOUT THE VAST HONK, YOU BLASPHEMOUS MOTHERFUCKER.

TC: what i believed in it to be was so beautiful, us and them all mellowing in tents, bumpin sounds, tossing back the faygo and soaking the miracles up our faith sponges, while the special stardust rained down at our elixir sticky faces, like a bunch a fuckin fairy powder from religion space.

TC: IT WAS GOING TO BE US AND MOTHER FUCKING THEM.

TC: them and mother fuckin us. :o(

TG: this is like

TG: some trolling schtick right

TG: this icp shit

TC: BUT NOW.

TC: because of you.

TC: BECAUSE OF ALL YOU AND YOUR FUCKING OUTRAGEOUSNESS.

TC: you stole up all my miracles away by revealing at me how the wicked shit was really kicked.

TC: LIKE SOME FILTHY FUCKING SCIENSTIFF WHO AT OLD TIMES WOULD BE RULED UNFUNNY WITHOUT EVEN GETTING HIS FUCKING TRIAL ON.

TC: and now i don't know what to think about the spiritual fantasies i had.

TC: HONK )o:

TG: hahaha

TG: best troll ever

TG: i dont even care if you're really into this stuff or not its awesome

TC: uhhhhh, what stuff?

TG: like

TG: horrorcore

TG: lame clown rap and stuff

TC: >:o?

TG: dude are you an actual juggalo or not

TC: bro, that word you used isn't nothing real i've heard of.

TC: IT STRIKES AT ME AS ANOTHER HERETICAL FUCKING BASTARDIZATION OF SOME SACRED SHIT I TAKE SERIOUSLY IN MY PUMP BISCUIT.

TC: i mean i guess, took seriously.

TG: hahahahaha

TG: do you really not know what im talking about

TC: I HAVE THE IDEA THAT YOU PUT IN MY PAN TO SIT THERE.

TC: that the paradise planet

TC: IS A FUCKING JOKE.

TC: and the miracles

TC: ARE FAKE.

TC: pure fiction.

TC: FALSE FAKEY FRAUDY CON JOBS FROM A BUNCH OF UNFUNNY NINJA HARLEQUIN BULLSHIT ARTISTS.

TG: ahaha

TG: i cant even tell if youre trying to troll me with this or if you actually are having some weird emotional problem

TC: can't it be motherfuckin

TC: BOTH THINGS.

TG: ok im telling you

TG: you need to watch this video

TG: the song isnt even supposed to be released for another year or something

TG: but i got it from an inside source

TG: this is as hot as it gets

TG: hang on lemme dig it up

TC: no.

TC: MOTHER FUCK NO, BRO.

TC: i'm not looking on any more of your blasphmemes.

TC: I REALLY JUST CAME BACK ON YOU TO MOTHER FUCKING SAY.

TC: that while that sickening noise you did at me is your fault

TC: THERE'S SOMETHING I DID AT YOU WHAT'S MINE.

TC: i did something that's motherfucking atrocious to your posse.

TC: MADE YOUR WHOLE CREW OF JOKERS GET TO BEING KINDA MENTALLY MOTHER FUCKIN

TC: unstable.

TC: IN FUCKING FACT

TC: that atrocious business i got to doing

TC: I DID THAT SHIT TO YOUR WHOLE UNIVERSE AS A MATTER OF MOTHER FUCKING FACT.

TC: you see

TC: YOU MOTHER FUCKIN SEE

TC: i finally got all caught up in what's true behind the sweet murdermirth of the bitchin bloodcircus.

TC: I REACHED DEEP DOWN AND GOT AT WHERE ALL THE REAL HARSHWHIMSIES WERE HIDING INSIDE ME.

TC: in the angriest ways i found up my dark ancestral chucklevoodoos within.

TC: AND THEN

TC: i focused on them through the rage you made me have

TC: AND I WENT AND MADE YOUR UNIVERSE...

TC: terminal. Bo)

TG: none of that really meant anything but ok

TG: also you have me confused for somebody else we never talked

TG: i guarantee i would have remembered you

TC: ALL THAT MOTHER FUCKIN MATTERS IS I REMEMBER YOU AND WHAT YOU DID.

TC: i'm just all letting you in on the ways i set the high justice in motion.

TC: MADE US MOTHERFUCKING SQUARE, YOU AND ME.

TC: me and you.

TG: thats cool juggalo guy who i still cant quite tell is ironic about this or not

TG: but like i said either way its all good

TC: HAHAHAHAHA, YOU DON'T MOTHER FUCKING BELIEVE.

TC: you need to get more spirituality into your superstition ghost.

TC: LIKE THE MOTHERFUCKING FAITHCHUMP THAT WHAT I WAS.

TC: as if i'd forget to do my chucklevoodoos to you too.

TC: TO FUCK UP YOUR DREAMS.

TC: make your worst fears come alive and get up on their haunts in your naphappy pan.

TG: what

TG: what fears

TC: YOU MOTHER FUCKING KNOW, BROTHER.

TC: its the fuckin puppet.

TC: THE ONE THAT'S ALL GOT TO BE MY BEST FUCKING FRIEND I GOT NOW.

TC: now that my other buddy managed to be having his head chopped off. :oC

TG: oh god

TG: did my bro put you up to this

TG: i should have guessed he might have a hand in some of these shitty trolling escapades

TC: YOUR BRO'S DEAD BRO.

TC: couldn't keep my new friend captive no more.

TC: RELEASED YOUR NIGHTMARES RIGHT INTO MY WARM FUCKING EMBRACE.

TC: and now i listen at what they whisper through my hear ducts.

TG: hahaha jesus

TG: you are fucking insane

TC: I'M ALL HEARING THESE AMAZING MOTHERFUCKIN THINGS.

TC: i think he'll help me refigure out what's the real reality about the miracles.

TC: HE'LL HELP ME TO MOTHER FUCKIN DISCOVER THE TRUTH OF WHO THE MESSIAHS ARE.

TC: the real messiahs, not the false mess a lies, hahahahaha.

TC: HONK.

TG: so

TG: my bros idiotic ventriloquist dummy is responsible for this schizophrenic bullshit

TG: is that what youre saying

TC: motherfuuuuuck yes, bro.

TG: what else does he say

TC: HE SAYS

TC: all in this funny little voice

TC: THAT IS SO

TC: very

TC: VERY

TC: very

TC: VERY

TC: quiet

TC: THAT

TC: it's time

TC: TO GO

TC: mother

TC: FUCKING

TC: kill

TC: THEM

TC: all.

TG: welp

TG: that sounds about right

TG: better do what he says dude

TC: YEAH.

TC: hahaha, here was i to come at you with all these unruly upbraids i got pent up.

TC: WHEN YOU KNOW MOTHERFUCKIN WHAT?

TC: i should be gettin grateful to you for sharing at me your way ridic heresies, brother.

TC: THE ROAD TO THE DARK CARNIVAL HAS NEVER BEFORE BEEN PAVED WITH LOUDER HONK HORNS TO TREAD UPON.

TC: and scare the living motherfuck out of the lowblood faithless with each step. ;o)

TG: hahahahahahahaha

TG: you are either literally an insane psychopathic murderer or some kind of trolling savant

TG: time to block you now but lets do this again ok

TC: YOU FUCKIN KNOW IT, BRO.

TC: i like you.

TC: WOULDN'T MIND TAKING THAT PALE MARSHMALLOW YOU GOT AS A NUGBONE OFF YOUR SHOULDERS.

TC: for this collection i got started on.

TC: ADD A LITTLE STRAWBERRY JAM TO THIS PEANUT BUTTER SANDWICH I'M MAKING BETWEEN MY MOTHER FUCKING LIPS.

TG: holy shit

TC: hey, before you go

TC: HOW ABOUT THAT WE

TC: slam a little. ;oD

TG: uh

They both then proceeded to have one of the best rap-offs in the history of paradox space.

#homestuck #gamzee makara #dave strider #homestuck act 5 #page 4027 #page 4028 #page 4029 #page 4030 #page 4031 #homestuck act 5 act 2

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